The Art of Fugue
by risokura
Summary: A violin virtuoso, a somewhat philosophical slacker and the spring that gave way to new life convictions. AxelRoxas


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Kingdom Hearts.

**A/N:** Had this sitting around since the summer.

Anyway, think roughly of Brooklyn as a visual when you read this. ...And I'm not talking about the parts that have been invaded and destroyed by god forsaken hipsters.

_—_

_The Art of Fugue_

—

There wasn't much that I lived for in this desolate world of corruption, filth and grime.

I'd spent my life surrounded by a harsh city landscape for the last twenty seven years of my life and had grown desensitized to the shittier aspects of the world as a result of it. When I was younger, I'd spent my days hoping that I'd finally get lucky and pull myself out of this never ending cesspool of crime and grit. Praying never worked. It was something that only fools blind with faith believed in. I wasn't one of them. Never could be one of them.

That was why I always longed for the dead of winter. Northeastern winters were a less than desirable affair for most people. There were never ending blizzards coupled with back breaking shoveling that made people late in their early morning commute, hands raised to the sky and screaming for one day of reprieve.

However, I enjoyed the brutal frigidity of the cold air freezing my lungs shut, as my frozen toes tried to find warmth in old and battered weather torn boots. The streets were always quiet at night as all the sane people of the city were too busy trying to stay warm in their apartments. As for me, I always felt better after chain smoking underneath the dilapidated awning of some shitty street corner bodega, catching snow flurries in my eye lashes.

I tossed my last cigarette into the pristine snow, watching the cigarette burn a small, cylinder hole into the white fluff. After entering the bodega, I bought a small bottle of coke and some chips and decided to head for home. I'd have to meet Roxas at the train station like I did on most week nights. He was always getting preyed upon by some sick pervert at night. Sometimes his effeminate looks were more trouble than they were worth.

I lit up again as I leaned against the railing above the steps leading down into the subway. I could feel the train rumbling underground as it pulled into the station and a few minutes later I saw Roxas ascending the steps, the collar to his coat pulled up around his face and violin case in hand. He immediately advanced toward me, face slightly admonishing at the cancer stick stuck in my mouth and then began walking ahead of me.

We made the fifteen minute trek up the hill from the train and finally into our shitty walk up with Roxas leading the way. He produced the key leading into our apartment and I kicked the door shut behind us.

"How was tonight?"

"The same as it is every night."

He loosened his scarf and slipped his coat onto one of the chairs by the dining table. His hands slipped around the newspaper that I left lying on the table to observe it for a minute and then dropped it onto the chair as well. He left the room and headed for his bedroom without another word. Guess it had been another bad night.

Unperturbed, I took up residence on the couch, dropped my plastic bag of shit on the floor, propped my feet up on the coffee table and lit another cigarette.

—

He had been fighting for first chair since last spring.

A virtuoso at the age of ten, Roxas had devoted his entire life to that stupid instrument that he never let out of his sight. In the five years that he's been my roommate, I've never seen him do anything besides practice all damn day and then turn around to play at concerts all night. It's the only thing he does, the only thing I think he's ever known.

He came to live with me after his brother, my old roommate, got a job offer and left with his girlfriend for the other side of the country a couple of years back. Roxas needed somewhere to stay while he got his feet wet in the city and I wasn't going anywhere fast in life so the situation proved to be ideal for the moment. Roxas was only nineteen when he moved out here with a proposal from one of the most prestigious orchestras in the country under his belt. Since then he's been trying to work his way up to the first chair. And he almost got there … but there was this girl who beat him out for the spot when the audition process began.

He's been moody and unpleasant ever since. Every night he goes through the same damn routine of rushing into the apartment, slamming the door and locking himself inside his room with classical music set on full volume. I've grown accustomed to it. I admit it's kind of relaxing because I don't have to keep up with the small talk and Roxas doesn't lash out at me anymore. It's almost as if we don't even live with one another.

Demyx, his older brother, will call to check in on us from time to time. That's the only time when I can get Roxas to come out of his room besides getting something to eat. Whatever. He keeps to himself, I do the same. We're just that, roommates. That's all.

Our situation is like your first dorming experience in college. You're either the studious little frosh who studies their brains out and stresses every night over their stupid grades. Or you're the roommate that's always gone and partying the night away. Roxas took on the role of the partying roommate… although he was light years more productive about shit than I was. I was your quintessential late twenties slacker and Roxas hated it.

Actually, Roxas hated me. But, I knew he relied on me.

I mean, he doesn't hate me, really. Maybe strongly disliked would be the better words for it. I was the only person he had in this god forsaken city and I was the only person that he would trust. Only person that he _could_ trust. I mean, I must have had some type of redeeming qualities for him to stick around this long.

He could have moved any other place in the city. The company paid him well enough. Yet, he stayed here with me in this shitty two bedroom hole in the wall that I'd called home for the past eight years. I mean our apartment wasn't in the most savory parts of town, but it wasn't the worst. I guess it had its little redeeming qualities.

I'd asked Demyx a couple of times why he thought Roxas stayed around for so long and he never gave me a straight answer. He was Roxas's older brother and even _he _didn't understand him that much. He said Roxas thought it was convenient … and seeing as his current situation in the orchestra wasn't changing anytime soon, he thought it would be best to stay with me. Whatever. As long as he paid his share of the rent I didn't care to question too much. That's just the way our lives went.

—

One day, on a particularly cold afternoon in the middle of January, I came home to find Roxas watching television. I didn't bother questioning him, but he felt the need to immediately explain himself.

"I've given up the violin."

In retrospect, those words would have meant a lot more to me now than they probably did that winter. But, I'll get to that later. I shrugged in response and headed for the kitchen to make a sandwich. A few minutes later he appeared in the archway of the kitchen, staring dead at me as I took my first bite. …Was this lunch meat expired?

"I said I quit playing the violin."

"I heard you the first time." I replied after I spit out part of the sandwich into a paper towel. I looked down at the white sticker on the flimsy, plastic bag. It _was_ expired. Ugh, I'd never be able to scrape the taste from my tongue.

"Aren't you going to say anything?"

"Not really." I said, wrapping the sandwich in another paper towel and tossing it into the garbage, "It's your business, right?"

He stared at me for a minute and then left the kitchen. Five minutes later I heard his oxfords hitting the wooden floor of the living room and the front door slammed behind him.

I shrugged.

Not my problem.

—

Demyx called the next day demanding to know what in the world was going on with his younger brother. I told him I didn't know and hung up the phone. Who was I to get involved in this drama filled family affair?

—

We had a snow storm the very next night.

I found Roxas sleeping on one of the couches in the living room, the television blaring at deafening levels. It was a wonder he was still asleep. I turned off the incessant noise and walked over to the bay window which looked down into one of the alleys next to our building. The wind was rattling the windows and the snow was burying cars underneath a fresh blanket of white.

I made my way into the kitchen to make myself a mug of hot chocolate and settled into the bay window with a book. I'd been entertaining some shitty philosophy book I'd borrowed from Xion a day or two ago. Figured since I couldn't do anything else in this storm, I might as well read.

Roxas woke up a few minutes later and shuffled his way over to the dining room table. He was quiet, staring intently at me as I sipped at my cocoa. I ignored his presence as I always did. The windows rattled a couple of more times as a harsh wind collided with the glass.

"Is there really nothing you want to say?"

"We don't even talk to begin with, Roxas. What would I have to say?"

He didn't pause to gather his thoughts, but merely to stare at me again. I've never taken the time to notice just how lifeless his cobalt eyes truly are.

"In the five years that I've been here, my life has been directed toward one goal. Even you know that."

"…Yes, to gain first chair in your beloved orchestra." Hadn't I already heard this story like … a million times before?

"And in the last year or so, that almost became a possibility." Roxas continued, "…But I'm beginning to wonder what I'm doing this for?"

"You dedicate twenty four years of your life to one sole purpose and you choose now to question it?" I asked.

"Axel, the girl that played the first chair committed suicide after our last performance." Roxas began, "They offered me the position after the news became public. I announced that I intended to take a three month sabbatical before I made my decision."

"Isn't this what you wanted?"

"Perhaps. But, I've begun to question if playing the violin is worth death itself, Axel."

"Isn't that a little dramatic?" I flipped a page in the book.

"Not when you stop to question what could possibly drive someone to kill themselves when they were finally able to fulfill their purpose in life."

—

Roxas became a regular fixture around the apartment after that talk.

In the first week following the announcement of his sabbatical he stayed around enjoying the joys of television. Apparently he never had much time to watch it in-between his hectic practicing, rehearsal and concert schedule. Not that I was complaining, I never watched TV to begin with. Contrary to popular belief, I may have been a slacker. But… I was a somewhat educated slacker.

I was sprawled across the bay window again; book in my lap and a cigarette in my mouth when Roxas decided that he wanted to speak with me again. This had to have been the most we had talked since he moved in here with me.

"What are you reading?"

"Some shit by Kant."

"The philosopher?"

"You guessed it." I replied.

Roxas grew pensive, "…Well, that's not surprising. You reading about philosophy, I mean. They do call it the slacker's major after all."

"Yes, but I never went to college." I said, ignoring his side comments and turned the page, "Wasn't trying to buy my way out of debt during my twenties. Can't say it hurt me any. Look at the state of the economy today."

Roxas shrugged and turned away from me. Guess that declared the conversation officially over. He rose to his feet and went back over to the television. I got tired of my book after another half hour, but Roxas was still watching television.

"So, what's your grand plan for this sabbatical?"

He took a sip of his tea and didn't respond straight away. He was watching some type of shitty reality show that I couldn't stand. Roxas shrugged his shoulders, "Why do you care?"

"Well, you seemed so eager to talk last night. Guess I decided to finally take you up on your offer this morning."

He sipped his tea again and picked up the remote, "I want to see what I've been missing out on in life." Roxas turned to look at me, "…I don't know how much my brother told you about me before I moved in, but you must know how much of a typical upbringing I didn't have."

I shrugged, "Can't say I know much beyond the fact that you spent more time traveling and playing for uptight rich foreigners than interacting with people your own age."

"I don't regret trading in the majority of my youth to spend time traveling the world." Roxas started, "But I want to spend time … being normal, if you will."

I stretched my arms out over my head and buried the urge to laugh in his face. This was completely absurd. What? Was he afraid he'd end up like the girl before him? Was he freaking out over the pressure the company would put him under? Was that it?

"So what do you want, Roxas?"

"Show me how to be normal."

My laughter was met with his silence as he sneered at me and returned to his room.

—

There was a knock on my door one morning and I stupidly told Roxas to come in. He poked his head in apprehensively and then closed the door behind him. I peered at him from underneath my pillow and he folded his arms over his chest. He had a question on his mind and I wasn't really willing to hear it.

"Ah, the prodigy has graced me with his presence on such a beautiful morning. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Are you going to keep antagonizing me?"

I laughed in his face again and turned over on my side so I didn't have to look at him. He was really serious about this, was he? I pulled my comforter up over my bare shoulders and sighed, "I don't know, maybe? It's kind of weird, don't you think, Roxas? We're not exactly buddy buddy and yet here you are trying to be best friends all of a sudden." I closed my eyes, "It's not weird that I'd find any of this strange now is it?"

"Yet you're not open to any possibility of us becoming friends?"

I turned around to look at him again, "I never said that, now did I?" I asked, raising a scrutinizing eyebrow, "I know you only see me as a convenience. I'm the only person you have in this city and you don't trust yourself to venture outside of what you know. Aren't I right?"

Roxas unfolded his arms from in front of his chest, "Look, Axel." He began, "I just want to try something different. And I'm asking you to give me a chance. I want to see something outside of the world of classical music. I don't want to think about the orchestra or the sheet music I always have to study. I don't want to think about schedules or rehearsals for major productions. And I don't want to think about the violin at all."

"You're afraid you'll end up like her?" I asked.

He was silent for a minute and then looked up at me, "Perhaps… maybe I am." Roxas admitted finally, "If I admit that I could possibly be, will you finally stop being so stubborn and help me with this?"

I shrugged, rolling over onto my side again, "I don't know… you've been my roommate for five years and now you have a sudden interest in getting to know me?"

"Things change in life. People change." Roxas responded, lowering his eyes in what appeared to be slight guilt, "And I know I haven't been the most pleasant person to be around. …But, I'm asking you to give me a chance? Please? Axel?"

I waved him away and curled up in my sheets again, "I'll think about it."

—

Roxas and I started our little tryst by going to the movies with one another.

As soon as I got off work we went to this little shitty place down by the piers. It was this place that played obscure crap that Roxas probably would have liked. He was standing around awkwardly, scarf pulled over his face and hand in his pockets as he waited outside of the theater for me.

"Is this a regular theater, Axel?" He asked, cutting scrutinizing eyes at the dirty display overhead that advertised the movie names.

I shrugged, "You never said you wanted to go to a regular theater." I replied, "Just that you wanted to go to the movies."

He sighed in what appeared to be defeat and threw his hands up at me, "I really don't have time to argue with you today." Roxas gestured for me to lead the way, "Just pick something for us to watch. Nothing too vulgar either."

"Now you're taking all the fun out of it."

I got us two tickets for some abstract film with radicals and hippies running through green pastures. Roxas got us popcorn, I got the sodas and we were seated in the theater a few minutes before the movie started.

Although I thought the film was going to be shit, Roxas seemed to be into it. I mean, it was nothing more than your classic experimental film where the director of the movie was more than likely smacking himself with psychedelics just to get through the day. Roxas was enamored with it. It was kind of funny how he was fixated on the screen the entire time, his eyes darting back and forth like he couldn't believe what he was seeing. He never said anything to me once. I sat back in my seat and closed my eyes, ignoring the movie. I was only here for Roxas anyway.

After that we got dinner and Roxas wanted to discuss the finer intricacies of the stoner movie with me, as I picked the crust off my sandwich. I guess this was a start.

—

We started going to bookstores and browsing around for random shit. I went through books at an inhuman speed and Roxas was a tagalong for most of those trips. It wasn't long before Roxas had traded in the music section for … the cooking section. I didn't question it… even if it was odd.

—

One night in February he brought this kid named Hayner home with him.

The kid was obnoxious and full of himself. He was the son of some big shot attorney living in the heart of the city. Roxas met him one night when he ventured downtown to try out the upscale longue scene. We'd learned early on that dive bars weren't his thing at all. (Though he did say that he was willing to try again).

It was three in the morning and I was going through my nightly battle with insomnia. I was poised at the kitchen counter, book in hand and a mug of hot tea on the counter. The door opened and Roxas stumbled in with Hayner laughing giddily behind him.

Now it's no surprise to me that Roxas was gay. I've known this ever since he moved in. I had the pleasure of running into one of his first boyfriends around the first couple of months when he had just moved in. What surprised me was how easily he allowed himself to have a one night stand. Change or not, for a person who was so uptight about sex and all of the natural processes that drive human beings… this was pretty drastic in my book.

I went to sleep that night with the headboard trying to break a hole in the wall by my feet.

—

The kid left early the next morning and Roxas was knocking on my door soon after he closed the front door of the apartment. I was already up, with only two hours of sleep under my belt. After I told him to come in, he let his head loll back and hit the wooden door behind him.

"How was your friend?"

He looked at me, "Do you really think I'm going to kiss and tell?"

I shrugged, "I'll just use the creaking of your bed from last night to serve as an indicator of how well things went for you."

Roxas looked slightly scandalized, but then scoffed, "Jealous?"

I shook my head, "Not in the least."

—

They started dating in the beginning of March.

He was gone a lot more than he used to be. Always jetting off at night to catch a train downtown and spend all his time with Hayner. He'd come trumping back through the door in the wee hours of the morning, just as the sun began emerging. I saw less and less of him as the chill of winter began to fade and spring was starting to settle in. Maybe this was supposed to be a new beginning for him? Was that what this was supposed to be? The changing of seasons and sweeping away of something old? Whatever, I didn't have time to philosophize about someone's life other than my own. And I rarely did that to begin with.

When I got sick of the silence of the apartment, I went out with Zexion to one of our usual bars. It was one of those places that always had seedy clientele lurking in its darkened corners. But, they were also cheap and popular with the young and dumb college crowd. A perfect place for anonymity if you just wanted to drink yourself into oblivion … or be a creep for one.

Zexion and I found a booth in a corner and sat there drinking our shitty choice of beer for the night. He sighed, tipping his mug up to his lips, "I've got so many proposals for this week, I honestly don't know what to do with myself."

"Here's an idea. You could stop whining and just get on with them." I replied.

Zexion rolled his eyes at me, "Advice coming from a perpetual slacker. Thanks, I appreciate it." He set his mug down, "So what did you bring me out here to bitch about tonight?"

"Demyx call you up to bitch about Roxas yet?"

"Yes. Multiple times. Seems like the family is completely losing their heads over his decision."

"…What do you mean?" I asked. "He just said he's taking a break."

"Huh, that's not what Demyx told me." Zexion answered, "Yes, he's taking a break. But supposedly that's not all. He might be quitting the violin for good."

"But that kid's been playing that shit ever since his mother shot him out of the womb."

"Yes, well." Zexion lowered his voice although he didn't have to. No one could possibly hear us with the ruckus a group of frat boys were making at the bar counter. "Apparently Roxas was the one that found the body of the girl that committed suicide."

"_What_?" I asked.

"She was in one of the storage rooms where they keep the extra instruments. He went back there for some reason and he found her body hanging from one of the rafters." Zexion shrugged, crossing one arm over his chest, "I suppose it terrified … or traumatized him enough to want to take a break from the whole thing."

"I don't get it." I fingered the smooth surface of the table, "Something you wanted is right in your grasp and you decide to give it up just because the person before you couldn't handle the pressure of the position? Does that make any sense?"

"Roxas is only twenty four, Axel. Remember that."

"He's almost hit one quarter of his life by next year." I replied, "Time is short. Why waste it contemplating the failures of others when you're different than they are? That kid was constantly fighting for that position. That's all he ever did was practice until his fingers were raw and he was on the verge of collapsing mental strain to be the best at what he did."

"People get tired, Axel." Zexion took a sip of his beer again. "People think they know what they want. But when they figure out that it isn't what they thought and they're under pressure from others to stick with it, they get tired. That's probably what Roxas is going through right now. He's tired of dealing with the label of being a prodigy and seeing what that girl did that day scared him. He doesn't want to end up like that."

I shrugged, "I guess you're right. So is that what his big plan is? Hang around and see how normal people live their lives and decide if he wants to return to the orchestra by next month?"

"According to Demyx, that's what it seems to be." Zexion shifted his glass between his hands, "Their parents are in an uproar. All the money they put into Roxas to get him where he was … you know… those sorts of things."

I laughed, "…Heh, well … guess teenage rebellion came seven years too late."

—

When I came home that night, Roxas was up waiting with leftover Chinese food for me. Classical music was playing on the stereo by the bay window and he was sitting at the dining room table, a brooding look on his face.

"What? No Hayner tonight?" I asked.

He didn't respond at first.

I gestured toward the stereo, "What happened? You decided to give up on your normal life and go back to your world of classics?"

He folded his hands together and turned to look at me. "…Teach me how to play the guitar."

I unzipped my leather jacket and threw it onto the couch, "Excuse me?"

"I want you to teach me how to play the guitar." Roxas reiterated, turning his eyes to the stand where the wooden guitar was displayed in the corner of the room, "Need I repeat myself for a third time?"

"You should know I'm no Paco de Lucia."

"…Who?"

I shook my head, "Never mind. So, you want to learn from me?" I walked into the kitchen and pulled the plastic bag of paper plates from off of the top of the microwave, "That's rich—" I paused for a minute and then looked at Roxas, "Wait, that's right you're supposed to be learning new things from me, aren't you?"

"Here we go with the patronizing again."

"It's kind of a second nature thing when it comes to you, don't you know?" I put a plate down on the table and opened one of the cartons of Chinese food. Pork fried rice and broccoli. The kid knew my favorites; I'd give him that at least. "Why the sudden interest?"

"Are we really going to have this conversation again?"

"Mmm, right. Right." I cast a curious eyebrow in his direction, "Do I have a choice in thinking your request over any?"

Roxas rose from his seat, "Do what you want. Just know that I won't give up until you say yes."

—

Roxas stopped seeing Hayner by that weekend.

His little rich playboy threw him for a loop one day and he said he was done with the whole fucking, drinking and hooking up thing. That didn't stop the kid from blowing up his cell phone all damn day though. Even showed up at the apartment on Monday morning talking about how he wanted to start over with Roxas again.

Well, Roxas put an end to that the minute he said he had a boyfriend and wouldn't need Hayner's … services anymore. When Hayner questioned who it was, I looked up to see Roxas gesturing behind him in my direction. Then he told Hayner my dick was twice the size of his and slammed the door in poor little rich boy's face. Couldn't say he wasn't efficient at handling his business, now could I?

"Twice the size of Hayner, huh?"

"Don't flatter yourself."

—

A week later, I changed my mind.

His theatrics were enough for me to change my mind about teaching him guitar.

—

Roxas came down to the club to watch me one rainy night.

I looked up just as the bell jingled and the door closed behind him. He shook the rain off of his umbrella and then looked up at me. His eyes looked eerie in the dim lighting the candles provided for the longue.

He couldn't look at me for long because a hostess was there to usher him into a seat toward the front, near the stage. She laid a menu down on his table and he accepted it from her without tearing his eyes away from me.

His gaze shifted from my eyes and down to my fingers as soon as I began to play. He didn't bother to focus on the rhythmic clapping that erupted from around me or the couple that soon began to glide their way across the stage. The only thing that seemed to interest him was the guitar in my hand. He ordered red wine, sipping on it cautiously as if he were afraid to miss anything.

I wrapped up my little session about an hour later and exited the stage to sit down at his table. He was still nursing the red wine from earlier. Or was it another glass? Who knows? Who cares? I ordered a mojito from a waitress and settled into the chair for my half hour break.

"Where did you learn to play?" Roxas finally asked.

"Self taught." I answered.

He looked somewhat surprised, "…But you play so well."

"You don't need fancy training for every aspect of life, Roxas." I answered, taking a sip of my mojito.

He sipped his wine in return, "So, when can we begin?"

"I'm here until two tonight." I answered, "Think you can stick around long enough?"

I suppose that was the turning point in our relationship. You know, we were already past the "just roommates" barrier. And I think we passed "sort of friends" after Roxas told Hayner I was his make believe boyfriend with the big dick. …Maybe we were friends but not friends but definitely friends if that made any sense.

I said at the beginning of all of this that Roxas trusted me.

Not in the traditional sense of placing his life in my hands. What I meant was that I was something familiar. Something he would trust to stay the same. I had his back even if we weren't the most communicative pair. Demyx knew that when he sent him to live with me that I would take care of his baby brother. I wouldn't let anything bad happen to him, or let him get lost or out of control in this big ass, scary city.

…And take care of him I did after that night.

—

Roxas came to see me on the weekends that I played at the lounge. He always sat front and center, blue eyes rapt with unwavering attention. For awhile it felt like the two of us were the only people in the room. No one else mattered.

One night after I had finished playing, I took him up to the rooftop garden to practice. It was cold on most nights as we were nearing the end of March. But, it was crisp and clear … and I suppose it was perfect in some ways.

We ordered pizza at 3AM in case either of us got hungry. Never mind the fact that the kitchen was still open right beneath us. No one ever really went home at the end of the night when we finished work. They usually hung around until the sun came up. I only worked at the longue on weekends, but the people that worked here accepted each other. No matter how long or how short your stay, it was like you always had family no matter where you went.

Roxas was sitting opposite me, scarf thrown around his face and coat hanging off of his shoulders. I had gotten up again to reposition the guitar for what seemed like the third time that night.

"This isn't the violin. You don't play the guitar with your chin, Roxas."

It also took him a minute to warm up to the idea of playing the instrument with his fingers in lieu of a bow, but pretty soon he was getting through the baby mechanics of the guitar.

"How long have you been playing?" He asked, setting the guitar down on his lap.

"About eight or nine years." I replied, "Started after I got my own place and began supporting myself."

"…So have you been working here since then?"

"Nah, I got this gig when I was twenty three." I said, "It's something nice to look forward to on the weekends. You wouldn't believe how much it pays either."

"Huh," Roxas strummed idly on the guitar, "…This has been really nice, Axel."

"Hm?"

"These past two and a half months, I mean. It's been really nice not having to stress out over delivering a stellar performance for the company every night … even if I was the second chair."

"Sounds like you don't want to go back, Roxas."

"I don't know what I want."

"Neither do I and you can see where I currently am in life." I laughed, glancing up at the waxing moon that hung overhead.

"Yeah." Roxas began, as his voice grew low, "But you're happy."

"You mean happy doing nothing?" I asked, suddenly becoming very amused by the direction this conversation was taking. "You think I'm happy, Roxas?"

"I never see you complain about your situation. You seem content where you are right now even though you could be doing so much more with yourself."

"Huh, more, you say? I mean, I'm not out there with the rest of my generation floundering about in some meaningful job while I mutter daily prayers under my breath for my next promotion to come. Or how about those going into debt just to get doctorate or masters degree? What about the people who come out of school realizing that they went in for the wrong thing? What about all those people who were forced into going into something just because people told them they were good at something, hm?" I cast a curious glance in his direction, "You know all about that, don't you, Roxas?"

"Can't say that I don't." Roxas replied, "Which is why I took this sabbatical in the first place."

"Ah, but you haven't been all that truthful with me. Have you, Roxas?"

"What do you mean?"

"I heard from a little birdie that there's more to this sabbatical of yours besides taking a break from violin." I replied, "Are you really thinking of quitting all together?"

"…Have you been talking to my brother again?"

I shook my head and got off the stool I had been sitting on to go get a slice of pizza, "Can't tell you about my sources, now can I? Just answer the question."

"…I was the one to find her body." Roxas said, "…And the head director … he was _callous _enough to ask me if I would like to fill her position on the same night. What the hell am I supposed to say to someone under circumstances like that, Axel? I can't just eagerly shoot up and say, 'Yes, of course. I'd love to take the place of someone who just committed suicide.'."

"Pretty fucked up when you put it that way."

"First chair has been my dream for so long. But that fucking scared me, Axel. I don't … I don't want my life to end that way."

"But you seem like you've got a good head on your shoulders, Roxas." I said, taking a bite of my pizza. A hunk of melted cheese dropped off my slice and to the stone floor beside my boot. I kicked it under the table and turned back to Roxas, "At least that's what your brother says."

"My family can't speak for what's really going on inside my head. Only I know the truth." Roxas sat the guitar down beside the chair, "They don't know the years of struggle and turmoil you go through in that world. They only see everything from the outside." He looked up at me, "That's why … that's why it's been nice living with you."

"Hm?"

"You don't push or pry." Roxas replied, "Sure you smoke like a chimney and you're lazy and unproductive in nearly aspect of your life. But that's just who you are. You're not uptight about things and you let things come and go as they please. You lay on that bay window nearly every morning reading your books with your cigarettes and tea or coffee or whatever…" He paused and rose from his seat to stand, "And you tell me to have a good performance or you ask how they went. You don't care that I'm not the best in the orchestra."

"Because that isn't my place."

"But my family thinks it is … at least my parents do."

"Yeah, well. I can tell you that parents just want the best for their children. Well, most of them do. Mine sure as hell didn't, but yours do." I took another bite of my slice, "Most just don't know the right way to encourage their children … or tell them that it's okay if they don't live up to their highest of expectations."

"What was your family like?" He asked.

"Old man beat my mother black and blue nearly all my life. Ended up killing her and himself when I was fourteen." I replied, turning to look at Roxas. "I was in the system for four years until I got out and moved into my own place. Took my first job as a dishwasher and started practicing the guitar around that time." I wiped my hands off on my jeans after I finished my slice, "Not much for inspiring your kid to achieve better in their life, hm? I guess you can say I only aspired to survive from the moment I turned eighteen."

"Not according to my brother." Roxas muttered, but instantly cursed under his breath when he realized I'd heard him.

"Been talking to little birdies, hm?" I asked, tapping my chin, "What did you hear from Demyx, hm?"

"Just that your grades in high school were good enough to get you into college on a _full ride_." Roxas said, placing emphasis on the last two words.

"Like I said before, I didn't really care about going to college." I said, walking over to the edge of the roof top, "The world is mad and I don't feed into the philosophy that college is the gateway to happiness. Especially if you don't know what you're doing with your life."

"It couldn't hurt to have a degree under your belt, I suppose." Roxas shrugged, "I always had the violin and music so my path was already determined."

I waved his comment away and turned around to face him, "And where are you now?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean look at where you are now. You're on a rooftop having a discussion with me about the finer intricacies of a lost and confused generation. We're even worse than those that came before us." I gazed up at the sky, "Have you reached a decision yet?"

"No. I still have another month to go."

"Better start thinking real soon, Roxas. It'll creep up on you before you know it."

He walked up beside me and placed his hands on top of the ledge of the roof, "I can always extend my time if I want to."

"They'll let you do that?"

"They asked _me_ to join their orchestra, have you forgotten? It wasn't the other way around."

I cocked my head to the side, "You know you can be pretty manipulative when you want to be."

Roxas shrugged, "They won't risk losing me so they'll give me as much time as I need." He shuffled a little closer to me, "Now, enough talking. Let's get back to the guitar."

—

After that conversation … our relationship suffered through an awkward patch through the rest of March. It rectified itself in the first weekend of April when Roxas and I had forgone the guitar lessons to spend the rest of the night on top of the longue eating pizza. I'd quickly learned that what Roxas meant when he asked me to teach him to play the guitar was merely a ploy to get closer to me.

He kissed me on the cheek at 5:34AM that Sunday.

An hour later on our way home on the train, he migrated to my lips.

The very next morning at 10AM, Roxas called up the company and told them he was going to extend his sabbatical for another month.

—

I could tolerate spring more than I could the inevitable descent into summer. Maybe because it was still cold in the spring and I could hold onto some remnants of winter that way. I hated the message everyone thought spring brought with it. Yeah, so what? Flowers bloom and the trees become green again. That rebirth only lasted for a little while though. Four months at best if we were going by where Roxas and I lived.

The buds would reappear again towards the end of March and bloom throughout April. It got hotter around May until August … and then we'd be right back in September when everything would slowly die and return back to baseline. Windy days and nights would blow the leaves off of dying trees, daylight decreased in time and there was a sort of never ending decay that ebbed away at the edges of your life. Why did everyone view spring as a renewal when everything continues to die over and over again? Nothing remains the same.

The measurement and significance of time is a human construct. We try and measure everything into finite portions and squeeze small chunks into sections that benefit us the most. Sure, everything ages and moves toward a point where it will no longer exist or continue to be. …But I wasn't going to let time rule my thoughts about where I should be or where I was going in life.

Other people could. But I refused to.

—

I sat with Roxas poised between my legs, his head resting against my shoulder and my eyes fixated on the sky above us. We had built a makeshift bed of sorts on the roof that night to watch the stars.

"I feel small and insignificant tonight." Roxas murmured.

"Why do you say that?"

"Just look at the sky." Roxas gestured, "Even with all the light pollution of this city you can still make out some of the stars in the sky… they're so many tonight."

"You know stars aren't as majestic as you think they are, Rox. They're nothing but hot balls of gas."

"Aren't you the romantic?"

I shrugged, "I try."

He sighed, gathering the edge of the heavy blanket up over his shoulders, "So, I've been thinking about the company lately."

"Yeah?"

"I think …I think I've had enough time off." He looked up at me, "I'm going to go back."

"You thought it through, huh?"

He nodded, "Not completely. I'm not one hundred on the idea, but I think it's what I'm going to do." Roxas shifted slightly, "There isn't anything else that I want more in my life, Axel. It's been nice having this time off to be normal, if that's what you want to call it. …But I'm … my heart is with the violin. …Playing in the orchestra. That's the life I want. That's my calling." He paused again and then eased off my chest and turned to look at me, "…Will you come see me play when if I go back?"

"Would that make you happy, Roxas?"

"…Yes." He said, "…Yes, it would."

—

We christened every other part of the apartment in the next two weeks.

In my bed. In his bed. Against the bay window. On the floor of the kitchen. The bathtub. Both sofas and the recliner. The dining room table… which actually broke underneath me and sent me to the emergency room with a slightly bruised tail bone.

…But that's besides the point.

Roxas was insatiable. And I think it had to do with the fact that he knew he was returning to the company soon and he wanted to get in on every last ounce of freedom that he had left. I don't know what we were at that point, but it didn't really matter to me or Roxas.

But he made sure to mention that I was definitely bigger than Hayner. That's for sure.

—

A week before Roxas made his official decision; Demyx came to visit us for the weekend.

Roxas went frigid while his brother was around. It was like he had regressed back to the person he was prior to this whole experience. We went out to a longue, something that was more his scene more so than Demyx and me. I only went along to placate the rising tensions between the brothers. Demyx was no better than I was when it came to responsibility, but he was out to see us at the behest of their parents. They wanted Demyx to talk sense into his younger brother and Roxas was clamming up underneath the pressure of it all.

Roxas wouldn't hear any of what he had to say. I knew he was heading back to the company by the middle of May … but that wasn't the point. He didn't want his family to feel like they had influenced his decision any. That was the reason behind all of this. Roxas wanted to feel like he had made the choice on his own without feeling like his family had any voice in the matter at all. They argued for the entire night and I was caught in the crossfire.

_What do you think about this, Axel? _I don't know. _Why don't you talk some sense into him, Axel?_ He's your brother. _Are you taking his side_? No. This isn't my place.

I got fed up, slammed my fists on the table and chucked my money between their drinks as I stood up. They could call me when they stopped acting like children. I wasn't getting caught in this family affair.

—

Demyx left and Roxas returned to normal.

He crawled into bed with me as I was staring at the ceiling stricken with insomnia once again. Roxas would return to the company tomorrow morning and his little vacation would be over. But he didn't want to stop what we had started and asked me if I wanted to the same thing. I turned to him and raised an eyebrow.

"I _did_ promise to come see you play… didn't I?"

—

I went to see him play for the first time on the night of the company's first spring concert.

The lights dimmed, the curtains drew apart and the crowd erupted in appreciative applause. There he was in the first seat to the left of the conductor in a crisp black suit and red tie. He took a deep breath, only breaking his almost dream like demeanor for a split second. His eyes darted nervously about the audience in search of me.

It didn't take long for his blue eyes to land on mine. I cracked a smile and he took another deep breath and then turned back to the conductor. He lifted the violin to his chin and closed his eyes.

He was ready to play.


End file.
